supersoldierwithashield:
Sometimes, Steve just couldn’t say no to him. Even before meeting Natasha Stark that had been true, but now it felt all the more imperative. He’s worth it. In three simple words, she had summed up every thought that had been going through his head since New York. The thoughts that had become screams lately, but not of fear or anger. Cries of joy.
But they wouldn’t stay that way for long.
He had been caught up in that, in the thought of time, when Tony’s voice pulled him back to the present. (As he so often did.) “You caught me,” he said, smirking lightly, and letting himself relax and lean into the touch. His leg missed the warmth and weight of Tony’s head, so he pressed it close to him to compensate.
For a long moment, he didn’t reply, just let himself freely explore the freedom of Tony’s body pressed to his this closely. It was so simple, to move his head closer. His arm had been slung across the back of the couch, and now he could wrap it around Tony. But when he did, he realized just how small he felt. Thin, the collar of his shirt gaping just enough. A familiar sort of fragility, the kind that made him remember shivering in the winter of 1940 and staring out the window wondering if he’d see the sunrise.
“No,” he said, insisting it with his body language, pulling Tony even closer. (The way Bucky had, on those cold nights, like he could fend off time and pneumonia through stubbornness.) “I mean, I am. But not that way,” he said, voice softening. “I don’t mind complicated,” he promised. But now he hesitated a moment, certain that no matter how hard he tried to school his features, they would belay his every thought to the man beside him. That was a good thing, but Steve still felt exposed, and it made his heart pound a little harder. “Besides,” he said finally, letting out a heavy breath. “That wouldn’t solve all the complications.”
Swallowing down his own emotions (which was next to impossible with Tony this close), he reached up, cradled Tony’s face. Thumb moving slowly across his cheek while Steve drank in every detail of his face – the lines and crevices, the crooked off-center nose, and those warm, warm eyes. But those eyes were tired looking, dark blue half-moons circling them, and there was a thin sheen of sweat at his hairline. “I’ve always been a man out of time,” he said, trying so hard to keep his voice steady. “I’m used to that. But I’m not used to running out of time,” he whispered, with a shaky breath. “We said we should talk about it, Tony,” he reminded him, voice more like a shadow than a sound.
The idea of getting Steve alone was always something that made Tony feel like all the air was sucked out of the room. Over the years he chased it in subtle ways, but he never expected this, never thought it was possible. If everything in the world happened to even the scales, Tony figured waking up in a cold sweat, having his nurse on speed dial and not being able to stomach food for days on end was worth this temporary happiness. Steve made it feel so permanent, but they both knew it couldn’t be. “Now I’m not letting go,” Tony informed him, moving in when Steve did, wrapping his arms around his waist.
“Good,” Tony said in a rush of breath, grinning at Steve despite attempts to keep his face from revealing every thought that went through his head. “I really didn’t want to step to myself. I’m not entirely sure how that would work out. She seemed the type to fight dirty.” He was trying so hard to keep it light, to convince both of them that this was just a couple going on a temporary retreat to get away from the kids, but Steve always brought so much honesty. It made Tony want to do the same thing, rise up to meet him where he stood. “No,” Tony whispered. “I guess it wouldn’t. She’s still a Stark.”
And Steve was still a Rogers, still the man looking at Tony in a way that no one else had before, not really. Tony was never able to break eye contact with him before, and he wasn’t going to start now. “Hey,” Tony said, lowly, hand going to rest on Steve’s arm as his thumb brushed over his cheek, “it’s just me here. We’re okay.” This conversation wasn’t going to be easy with all the comforting words in the world, though, and Tony knew that. He knew there was no way to fix it. He nodded along with Steve’s words, worrying at the corner of his lip.
“You’re my heart too,” he said, all in a rush, the back of his neck heating up. “I mean, it’s not great, it’s got more holes than cheddar, but what’s left of it, that’s you.” Talking was the last thing Tony ever wanted to do, because he wasn’t good at it. It was significantly easier when they were touching, though, and so Tony’s hand moved up to Steve’s, linking their fingers together. He brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to Steve’s knuckles. “You’re the last person I’m going to–” Tony swallowed thickly, cutting himself off. “But I’m just your first, Steve.” He thought of an elderly Steve standing in front of him in the workshop, that ring glinting in the light. “If things were different, I’d kill to be the only one that sees that look on your face. You know that, right?” Love is selfish. Inherently selfish, that’s what Jessica said. Maybe Tony had permission to be selfish right now. “Promise me– Promise me, Steve, you won’t bury that with me. Even if I’d like the company … you’ve got a lot of life left. I want you to be happy.”
Finally, Tony looked down, eyes focused on Steve’s hand in his. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I know I’ve been pretty shitty about showing it.”
